


Always First, Sometimes Second.

by Beckon



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Faneuil Hall, Gore, Preston Appreciation Week, Super Mutants, ambiguous ending, bullet wounds, mentions of body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5896105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckon/pseuds/Beckon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was a protector, a caretaker.</p>
<p>Nora knew this from experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always First, Sometimes Second.

**Author's Note:**

> Third installment for the Preston Appreciation Week.

He was a protector, a caretaker.

Nora knew this from experience.

From the moment they met, to the first time they stepped out into the Commonwealth together, it was apparent that Preston was always looking out for everyone else. Every second spent together was a constant reminder that he was watching her back- and that he would do whatever was necessary to protect her. Even if the ' _necessary_ ' part included putting a bullet into someone else's head; even if it killed him to pull the trigger, better so deal with that than yet another burden to rest on his shoulders.

But it wasn't always about shooting first, or shooting straight.

It wasn't always about finding the best escape, or choosing to take another route just to avoid the clusterfuck of Gunners who had decided to set up camp in their way.

Sometimes his protecting nature came out in the way he would carry Mama Murphy around Sanctuary when her hip acted up. And he'd do it with a smile and a laugh while the old woman poked fun at the two of them.

_"You worry too much, Preston,"_ Mama Murphy would tease, _"you'll never rest if you keep this up."_

Nora was certain that he'd be content with a life like that.

Once during a firefight against some Raiders, she remembered hearing Dogmeat give out a pained cry before he went down just in front of her. And it was strange just how easily the rest of the Raiders went down afterwards. She couldn't say that she remembered pulling the trigger that many times- although she knew that she wasn't alone in that aspect.

She found the canine whimpering and holding his front leg curled to his body; there was blood pumping out of a bullet wound in his shoulder.

She figured most people would've called it quits on the animal and would've chosen to put him out of his misery.

But not them.

She gave Dogmeat a Stimpak, while Preston patched up the injury as best he could. And then she watched as the man slung his musket over his back and carefully hoisted the wounded dog up in his arms.

It was a two-mile trek back home, but he carried Dogment the entire way- making sure the wounded canine slept restfully against him.

And to no surprise, that protective nature came into action around her one too many times.

_"Just get it over with," Nora urged, fully aware her tone made it sound more like a whine instead. But she knew he had the words sitting on his tongue, and that they had been there ever since they left the assembly plant. And while he was doing a great job at playing stupid with her, she knew- she knew- they were there._

_Preston gave a brief sigh, but she could see the way he was having to fight back the urge to laugh at her; she could see it in the way he wouldn't look at her, in the way he was constantly biting into his lip._

_"I told you not to jump," he finally spoke._

_There it was._

_Finally._

_After nearly half an hour of walking away from Corvega, after nearly half an hour of carrying her through the rocky hillsides, he finally said it. And as much as she hated it when people sprang the 'I told you so' line on her... in this case, she was just glad it was over with._

_"I was in the heat of the moment," Nora muttered, as she uncomfortably crossed his arms and rested her head against his shoulder._

_"You jumped off the rooftop," Preston reminded. "A balcony, or staircase would've been fine- maybe- but the roof?"_

_"We were being chased, we didn't have time to use the stairs."_

_"We didn't have time for you to dislocate your knee either."_

He was a protector; he was selfless.

And in any given situation, he put the safety of others' above his own.

...

Nora had experience with that too.

She hated Faneuil Hall with every bit of hate her body could muster on a bad day. Super Mutants, as tragic of a concept as they were, had become a nuisance to their line of work. It seemed like every time they turned around, there were more of them rampaging and pillaging; they had even attempted to kidnap a few of their settlers- no doubt to transform them into the same horrific, mutilated state.

And if clearing out this place meant that she would finally rid this area of their presence, then so be it.

They might've underestimated just how many Super Mutants there were though...

And just how many of them would rush at them at one time.

The heavy deterioration of the building didn't help them either.

They got pinned to the second floor, and separated with her in one room and Preston in the one across. It seemed like a doable situation, nothing they hadn't already had experience with- except that the Super Mutants were about two seconds from barging into the room she had been hiding in.

Two seconds before the minigun-wielding Super Mutant kicked its way in and gunned her in half.

Nora stood ready with her back against the wall behind her, ready for the door to be kicked in and ready to unload as many shells as she could into as many Muties as possible. It left her with the stinging taste of bile in the back of her throat as her sweaty palms made it difficult to keep the hold on her shotgun.

...

And then she heard it.

That familiar hum of his laser musket going off, just before the door in front of her splintered apart. She watched in stunned silence as one of the Super Mutant toppled through the fragile splinters- the back of his head blown clean off and the inside of his skull scorched black. The sound of the minigun hitting the ground let her know that she might've had a chance now.

And in two seconds, the rest of the Mutants turned- guns blazing in the tight space.

Everything inside of her stopped cold as she watched the bullets tear through Preston's body, before he barely managed to duck back into the room behind him.

For a second time in her life, Nora didn't remember pulling the trigger so many times in rapid succession. Her mind was too focused on watching the group in front of her get shredded as each shell tore through their bodies- blowing limbs off at their vulnerable joints. And the group she had been so preoccupied with, so certain that they were going to kill her, were left failing to escape from her rampage.

Failing to escape from the shells that tore open bellies and blew out organs.

It was only when her shotgun clicked empty did everything slowly fall back into place- did everything suddenly come back up to speed for her.

Her ears were ringing, and she was pretty certain that she had lost some of her hearing amongst the chaos of her shotgun in such close quarters.

Nora felt the shotgun drop out of her hands and to the floorboards below, before she stumbled through the mess of thick, wet carcasses in front of her. The smell was horrendous and she felt herself gag slightly as her foot came down on some of the fresh entrails- nearly causing her to slide and lose her balance. She nearly tripped over blown off limbs and almost lost her footing again as separated fingers rolled underfoot. It was disgusting, but hardly any of it had an effect on her.

She was just too damn focused on the fresh blood that had been splattered across the wall where he once stood.

Part of her was too afraid to go into the room; it was just too quiet, too... obvious, but she had to.

"Preston-" Nora started, hating the way his name stammered out from her lips, as she stumbled through the opened doorway. She knew what she should've expected to see, but she didn't want to think on it; she didn't want to accept the possibility of it.

He had managed to catch himself against the wall, bracing his back against it to keep himself from falling to the floor- which gave her the impression that this wasn't the first time he had been in a situation like this. And knowing him, and everything he had gone through, she knew this wasn't; it couldn't be. His gun had been propped against the wall next to him, one hand still holding onto the barrel- still ready to shoot again at a moment's notice.

His other arm was pressed across his chest, and the sleeve of his duster was already soaked with blood.

...

Her mind was filled with images of Vault 111, with images of Nate.

Blood frozen, and crystallized as it barely trickled out from the bullet in his head.

"Are you alright?" Preston started first, somehow able to keep his voice collected for the time being. Everything about his body was tense- everything from the way he stood to the way he spoke; even to the way he kept his breathing long and slow- quiet. Maybe it was practice that lead him to figure out the best way to keep himself collected under distress, to keep a situation playing out as anything other than hopeless.

"Don't you worry about me," she assured, her words shaking, as she moved in front of him. Both hands came to rest on his braced arm, before she moved one to his left shoulder- feeling the warm blood slipping out through her fingers; and she hated it. Part of her wanted to panic, wanted to scream, but... now was not the time; she had to hold it together, or else they would both come undone. He had just saved her from getting gunned down by passing it onto himself instead- the least she could do was remain calm for the both of them. "I'm fine," she decided to answer instead, knowing well that that was what he was looking for. "I'm okay. It's you I'm worried about."

"Super Mutants are... pretty notorious for shitty aim," he replied. "I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks- or feels."

There he was trying to protect her again.

And here she was, not able to do a damn thing about it.

The lack of continuous yelling, or thundering footsteps told her that that had been the last group of Super Mutants in this building. That wasn't to say that there wouldn't be more showing up, but as of now... they were as safe as they could get.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," Nora whispered, as she picked up his gun and slung it over her shoulder, before she slipped underneath his arm and braced hers across his back. It killed her to hear the pained groan that left him as she pulled him forward, forcing his weight to settle onto his legs. She felt him lean against her, and felt her own legs slightly buckle before she caught herself.

"Sorry," he started, having caught the way she struggled slightly underneath him.

"No, it's... it's fine," she assured once more, as she got the two of them moving and managed to get them out into the hall. "You've carried me plenty of times before, the least I could do is return the favor."

"Yeah, but... you're easy to carry."

Nora chuckled softly, and tangled her fingers in his jacket. "I'll remember that."

...

The rain was coming down too heavily outside for them to risk leaving the building; hell, the only reason they decided to do this clean-up job now was because of the rain. It made it harder for the Super Mutants to smell or hear their approach- it seemed like the perfect plan. And it had been- to an extent.

Although now, it felt like that grand plan had blown up in their faces.

She wouldn't risk trying to move him in that storm- she knew he hated traveling in the rain anyways.

So, instead, she forced him to the upper floor of the building.

Nora remembered there being an article on the Faneuil Hall back in her own time, and reading that some guy had a small apartment on the top floor. And while the article was well over two hundred years old now, she could only hope that something or some part of it was left over.

... There was so much blood.

Christ, with every flight of stairs they had to climb, there was more blood dripping to the floorboards underneath them. With every flight, there was always that pause of hesitation, that pause of whether or not he'd be able to make the climb. He always did- but at this point, she was pretty certain he was doing it more for her than himself. The last thing he would've wanted was for her to have to carry a burden like the ones he did.

When they finally made it to the top, after far too much stairs, and far too many breaks for air, she didn't exactly find the apartment she would've liked. But she found a decent enough alternative; the important thing was that it was secure, and could easily be protected should something or someone come after them.

...

Four bullets.

Four goddamn bullets.

She knew he was lucky as hell to get away with just four, but still... It wasn't like there was some kind of magical hospital around the corner that she could take him too. The bleeding had finally stopped, but that didn't mean shit; it was a small victory, but her mind was already troubled with everything else that could go wrong. She was able to keep him stable with the Stimpaks she had brought with her- and she was damn glad that she had brought as many as she did. Despite the extra weight of lugging them around, she'd much rather deal with being a little slow than being underprepared.

Sighing, Nora leaned her head back against the wall behind her and listened to the subtle sound of the rain coming down on the roof. It was oddly serene, but the silence worked like nails digging across her skin; it made her restless and itchy- made her wish she had retrieved her shotgun before she came up here.

She would give the rain an hour, and if it didn't let up... then she'd just have to make a run for Dr. Carrington, or someone. And she would just have to hope that she'd make it back in time- although the idea of leaving him alone left her feeling anxious and sick. But if she didn't do something...

One hand rubbed at her eyes, never noticing that she might've been smearing blood across her face, before she looked down to see him resting in her lap.

Well, either resting, or unconscious, she couldn't be certain.

He was quiet, but he was breathing, and right now that was all that mattered to her.

...

Blood had soaked through his vest and duster, marking each bullet wound with a thick, red patch that churned rocks in her stomach.

Two bullets had punctured his right side through the ribs.

One hit just underneath his collarbone.

And the final bullet caught him in the left shoulder.

They were non-fatal hits, at least no organs or any arteries had been struck, but with the lack of proper medicine and care... anything could turn serious. He could be fine one minute, and dead the next if she wasn't careful, if she didn't do anything.

It felt like there was a heavy weight on her chest... What if she fucked up? What if she got help too late?

More than anything, she wished she could just carry him out of danger like he had done with her so many times before.

"Why'd you do it?" Nora whispered, more so to herself and to the silence around her.

She knew the answer, and she knew she shouldn't've been surprised- there was no reason to be.

He was a protector after all.

He always needed to make sure that everyone else was safe first, that everyone else could get out first... that if someone was going to take a bullet, it would be him first. And she had to admit that this was probably the first time she had ever wished that she had gotten shot instead.

... Okay, maybe second.

That's how she was beginning to feel now- always second.

"You're just too good for me, you know? And too damn good for anyone else here."

**Author's Note:**

> (Look, we all like to see two things of our favorite characters: we like to see them happy, and we like to see them horribly injured. Let's not lie to ourselves about it).


End file.
